


twrp one shots

by somethingsintheair



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, Little bit of blood, there's a tiny incident of violence, these are all real short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Sometimes I take drabble requests, or just write some random bullshit, and I wanted to put them all in one nice little place.





	1. holy shit that was fucked

**Author's Note:**

> havve-hoagie said: i wish you would write a fic where sung gets decked in his dumb face

The MAGFest incident was one thing. A broken strap, an unfortunate mistake. Luckily, no one had been hurt.

This was different.

All it took was some careless placement of his nunchaku for Sung to trip onstage, his chin making direct contact with the keys on his keytar. The discordant notes filled the room, and that pulled the rest of the band right out of their rhythm.

Phobos was the first to stop, rushing over to see if his bandmate was okay. Meouch was next, and he reached over towards his laptop to cut the backing track before he ran over as well. Havve’s drumming soon slowed to a stop, and he stood slowly to glance at the man on the floor.

He couldn’t see too well, but even back there he could tell that Sung was sobbing like a baby.


	2. snack time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'hi hi for prompts; "There was that motherfucker, ruining things again."'  
> 'dr sung eats a nature valley bar and makes a mess'

There was that motherfucker, ruining things again.

Havve could see it very clearly, and even if he didn’t, he was sure he’d still be able to hear it. As Sung hovered over him, poking at the inside of his chest cavity, the shit idiot was crunching away on a goddamn granola bar.

Despicable.

“So then she’s all, ‘are you _really_ an alien?’ And I’m like, ‘of course, how else do you think I’m so charismatic?’ And you know what she does? She _laughs.”_

Havve clenched his hands into fists as Sung babbled on, mouth full of granola.

“She still didn’t believe me. And of course, I’m a little more than offended, but I’m not gonna let her _know_ that, you know?”

Havve visibly cringed as he felt another crumb fall into his chest.

“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or anything. So you know what I did? I stood right up, proud and tall, and showed her my–”

Havve sat up and cut the doctor right off by grabbing his wrist with what would’ve been enough force to break it, had he not been an alien. And before the dipshit could say a word, Havve grabbed that godforsaken granola bar and whipped it across the room

“REPAIRS NOW. SNACK TIME LATER.”


	3. the donut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'writing prompt: a Havve and Meouch interaction'

It just had to be the one that squeaks, didn’t it? Of all the toys (“they aren’t toys!”) they’d given Meouch to stop him from chewing on their possessions, the guy just had to favor the only one that made noise.

Havve would’ve much rather had the Commander chewing on his own fleshy hands than be making that much noise, and goddammit he was going to do something about it. He stood from the couch, causing the other half of the band to glance up in question. Meouch, however, resumed chewing on the squeaky rubber donut.

Havve was fuming.

He stood in front of Meouch and promptly ripped the toy from his mouth before he tossed it out of a conveniently open window.


	4. absolute heaven (guitar center)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'write abt phobos going into an earth guitar store for the first time'

He still didn’t quite understand the concept. Sung had explained it to him countless times– with most species, the musicians purchased their instruments, as opposed to creating them on their own, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around that. What was the point? Where was their pride? What did they–

_Oh._

He stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the store.

 _Guitar Center,_ they called it. _Absolute Heaven,_ he thought.

It was absolutely beautiful. Guitars of all shapes, sizes and colors lined the walls, all with different types of pickups and knobs and tuning keys and–

He took a deep breath. Right, okay. He needed to relax. No point in passing out in the middle of the store. Curiously, he delved further into the room, his hearts still racing as he gaped at the instruments around him.

By the time the store was closing that night, he had to be forcibly removed by Doctor Sung himself.


	5. science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'sung finds out that microwaves heat things but no one tells him not to put metal in it'

Meouch wasn’t sure why he ever left Sung alone. Especially in the kitchen.

He had been out of the room for… _maybe_ 45 seconds before he heard it. A high-pitched shriek accompanied by a loud crackling sound was enough to send Meouch running back into the room. He came back to find that the crackling had stopped, and Sung was leaning over the microwave as if he was protecting it.

“What are you doing?” Meouch asked.

Sung shook his head. “Nothing. Why?”

Meouch rolled his eyes before he shoved the man aside and opened the microwave. He waved away the puff of smoke that emerged and took a glance inside.

“…Why the _fuck_ would you put tin foil in the microwave?” he asked.

Sung just shrugged. “Well, I… I _am_ a scientist. Theories, and hypotheses, and… experiments and all…” He paused. “Would you please step aside so I can continue my work?”

_“No!”_


	6. freckled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'write about sung and his hecking freckles (,,, for a friend)'

He loved the workout, but he could do without getting all sweaty afterwards.

The only positive thing about having to take a shower is that when he walked by the mirror, he got to look at his freckles. He’d never really figured out why they glowed in such a way– always just after he exercised, too.

He took a moment to look in the mirror, admiring the soft yellow glow that emitted from his cheeks. Carefully, he placed a hand over the side of his face– his skin felt warm, but given, that could have just been from the workout. He really had no way of knowing.

He didn’t really mind, either. It looked cool, at least.


	7. peeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'havve opens his jaw for the first time. what in the world comes out'

“You know, Hogan,” Meouch began as he flopped down on the couch. “I’ve seen Doc and Phobos without their helmets on, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen what you’ve got going on under there.”

Havve turned to face the Commander. He paused before he reached to the sides of his head to remove his metal jaw with a soft pop.

Meouch just… stared.

There was a fucking bird’s nest in there. A nest made of twigs with three tiny, featherless baby birds inside. Their incessant tweeting echoed throughout the otherwise hollow metal cavity, and Meouch had to wonder how he never heard it before.

“…Huh.”


	8. they do what now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Meouch first discovering that the lions on earth don't know how to speak or play instruments'

Obviously, losing his lion friend at the zoo, Sung was more than a little concerned. But it didn’t take long for him to hear the familiar, angry voice from a few yards away.

“Whaddya mean they just sit there? What the fuck did you do to ‘em?”

Sung turned his head to see Meouch shouting at a very small, very frightened zoo employee. They were in front of the lion enclosure, and Meouch looked… upset.  
He rushed towards the two of them, hastily pulling the Commander away from the poor guy who he had apparently scared into dead silence. “Hey, Meouch, _relax._ What the hell are you doing?”

“They did somethin’, they fucked with the lions!” Meouch exclaimed, “Just look at them!” He frantically gestured towards the enclosure. One of the lions yawned.

Sung frowned. “They look just fine to me. What’s wrong?”

“They’re not talkin’, they aren’t doing anything, they won’t even look at me!” Meouch answered. “They’ve got nothing to do in there, they must be bored out of their minds! It’s not fuckin’ cool, who would do that to someone?”

Sung blinked, glancing between Meouch and the lions in the enclosure. He let out a soft sigh before he slid an arm over Meouch’s shoulders and started to lead him away. “Commander, I… think we need to have a little chat.”


	9. remove cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'meouch gets his fur caught on havve's spikes'

Sung had been sitting there for a good five minutes, just… staring, and he still couldn’t exactly process what he was looking at.

Havve was standing tall, eyes burning red, hands clenched into fists. Meouch was awkwardly crouched over, tears pricking in his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His mane was tangled in the spikes on Havve’s armor.

“So… ah.” Sung cleared his throat. “How did this happen, exactly?”

“I was just fuckin’… I leaned over to grab the remote, I didn’t think it was that–” He snarled when Havve jerked to the side, tugging on his mane.

“THE CAT GOT TOO CLOSE. I WANT HIM REMOVED.”


	10. who stole this stop sign do you know how dangerous that is

Sung only ever called a “band meeting” for two reasons: Either he had some really good news, or he had some sort of grievance with the rest of the band.

This time, it was most certainly the latter.

He had his arms crossed as his gaze swept across the couch where his bandmates sat. Then, he stepped towards the closet, opened the door, and pulled out a stop sign. Just… a fucking stop sign. Held up right next to him. The others just stared.

“Care to explain?”

Meouch scratched his head. “You… is this some kinda metaphor, or–”

“No, it’s not a _metaphor,_ " Sung said, “I found it in here this morning! Where did it _come_ from?”

The three of them exchanged glances. They all seemed just as confused as Sung was.

“Fine, no one’s gonna own up to it?” Sung let out a sigh. “I’ll find out, then. I’m going to… return this, but I’ll be on watch tonight. And I don’t want to see any _shenanigans_ like this again. Got it?”

It was early the next morning when Phobos emerged from his room, only to see an oddly sluggish Doctor Sung stumbling in through the door.  
He was dragging a traffic cone along behind him.


	11. he's amphibious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Amphibious Phobos'

Phobos didn’t expect many gifts on his birthday, really– if anything, some extra strings or a nice houseplant would be just fine.

But when Sung approached him with an actual guitar case, he was more than a little excited.

“Phobos!” he called, “The Commander recently told me you’re amphibious. So I wanted to get you something that would cater to the side of you we don’t see as much of!”

Phobos’s eyes widened. Had he somehow engineered a guitar that could work underwater? Would he really be able to play while he was swimming?

Quickly, he unzipped the case, and pulled out… a lefty guitar?

He blinked and looked up at Sung, who had a big grin on his face.

“Happy birthday!”


	12. bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'phobos learns something new :0?'

Ah, yes. The ukulele. Or, as Meouch called it, “the bitch guitar.”

It was easy, and that’s why Phobos liked it. His fingers were already strong and callused from centuries of playing guitar, but the uke was a nice break from the effort. It was nice and small, it had nylon strings (or, as Meouch called them, “the bitch strings”), and overall, it was just simple. Fun and simple.

Sung liked it quite a bit, too– Phobos even taught him a few chords here and there. While Phobos always played with a pick, naturally, Sung couldn’t quite get the hang of holding the thing. He preferred to strum with his hand alone.

Sometimes, they’d even play together. Sung would strum a select few chords on the uke while Phobos would improvise something on his acoustic guitar to go along with it. And despite Meouch’s reservations about the aforementioned bitch guitar, he always listened in on their little jam sessions.


	13. well maybe i'm feeling stabby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'See, the thing is, you could’ve just not stabbed him, and we’d have at least 8 fewer problems right now.'
> 
> (warnings for mentions of alcohol and violence)

_Go out for drinks,_ he said. _It’ll surely help that strained relationship of yours,_ he said.

 _How is a goddamn robot supposed to drink anything in the first place,_ Meouch wondered.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, really. Maybe he and Hogan would try to sit at a bar for a few minutes, make some awkward small talk, and then head home. Maybe some of the tension between them, at least a little bit, would be eased. Maybe Sung wouldn’t have been so wrong after all.

But no. Oh, no.

Meouch couldn’t quite place how exactly they’d ended up in this position– frankly, he was a little tipsy, and that wasn’t helping. But he was definitely lucid enough to process the poor, frail human man quietly bleeding out in front of them.

“…Hogan.“

Bright red eyes shone towards him in the dim light of the evening. “YES.“

“What do you plan on doing with this?“

“I PLAN TO LET HIM DIE.“

“Just because someone looks vaguely like a certain artist that you’re not… particularly _fond_ of doesn’t mean it’s okay to stab him.“

“I WANTED TO.”

“Yeah? Well, see, the thing is, you could’ve just _not_ stabbed him, and we’d have at least 8 fewer problems right now.”

“BUT I DID."

“Yep, you sure did, dipshit." Meouch let out a sigh and took out his phone. “I’m callin’ the Doc.”


	14. "whose blood is that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst prompts turned into soft things i don't know what happened but i know i love it

It was nearly midnight when the front door of the Groove Station creaked open. Sung sprung up from where he’d been worrying on the living room couch for the past hour. Ready to give a stern talking-to, he put his hands on his hips.

“Havve! Do you have any idea what time it is?! And you didn’t even _think_ to--”

Sung’s words caught in his throat when he got a good look at the robot. Havve was carrying a backpack, one that Sung was pretty sure he’d never seen before. And on a much more alarming note, there was a bit of blood his left shoulder spikes.

Sung gulped. “Havve… whose blood is that?”

Havve glanced down, then at his shoulder, before he looked back at Sung. “DO NOT WORRY, DOCTOR. ALL IS WELL. COME WITH ME”

“Wh...” Doctor Sung watched, baffled, as Havve stepped towards the bathroom. “Hey-- Havve! What the fuck?” he shouted as he rushed after him. He found Havve setting the backpack down on the counter. “You can’t just... walk out in the middle of the afternoon-- with _no_ warning, might I add-- and not come back until this late at night! We care about you! You need to-- _ohhmygod.”_

Doctor Sung was broken. Completely and utterly broken. He watched on in silent awe as Havve held a tiny cat in his arms. It had a piece of cloth wrapped around its paw, and looked absolutely terrified.

“THE FELINE WAS FRIGHTENED, PRESUMABLY BY MY APPEARANCE. IT JUMPED UP MY ARM WHEN I TRIED TO PET IT AND ITS PAW CAUGHT ON MY ARMOR. SO I BROUGHT IT HERE.” Havve turned to face Sung. “I PRESUME YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO.”

Sung’s first attempt to respond only resulted in a little squeak from his throat. Crying? No, he wasn’t crying. Not because of something like a _tiny precious kitten--_

“ARE YOU GOING TO STAND THERE BLUBBERING LIKE A BABY, OR ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME?”

Sung cleared his throat. Wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. “Y… yeah. Yeah, I got it. Lemme see.”


	15. 4 AM

Doctor Sung didn’t need much rest. It was a trait of his species, it went along with his natural physical resilience. His body was far too efficient for what one might consider a normal sleep cycle. He only needed about an hour per day in order to function.

But when he slept, he _slept._

It was like clockwork. Like a switch flipped in his brain. Every day, from 4 to 5 AM, he would be out like a light. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. When 4 o’clock hit, he was gone.

Naturally, that led to him falling asleep in some questionable positions.

He tried to be on top of things, he really did. But he couldn’t help it if he got caught up in his work and dented his visor with a screwdriver when his head hit his desk. He couldn’t help it if he conked out on the front steps after a quick jog. He couldn’t help it if he fell asleep directly on top of Havve Hogan during some late-night maintenance.

Well, okay. That last one could’ve pretty easily been avoided.

Havve didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t even know the doctor had been poking around in his chest cavity while he slept. But his subconscious must’ve noticed, because he woke up very early with a very obvious dead weight slumped over his body. The dead weight of none other than Doctor Sung.

He gave his processors a moment to power on fully before he promptly shoved the body off of his own. Sung was wearing a helmet, he’d be fine. In fact, he didn’t even flinch as his limp body hit the cold concrete floor of his lab.

Havve closed up his chest cavity before he stood from the worktable. Before he left, he spared Doctor Sung one last glance– face down, ass up, peaceful as ever.


End file.
